


Serenade the Girl

by shadow13



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fun, Gender politics, High School, Humor, Prom, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 04:26:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4592817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow13/pseuds/shadow13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the senior prom, and Sarah plans to go stag with her best friend. Unfortunately, she has suitors that want to change her mind - and one of them is the Goblin King.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Serenade the Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, I was thinking about “Hey There, Delilah” a little too hard. Not gonna lie, this fic made me miss high school just a little. Which is insanity. I also do feel a bit bad for the much maligned Tommy Schultz – but girls, holla. We've all had our Tommy Schultzes.
> 
> HELLO, GENDER COMMENTARY, MY NAME IS SHADOW13, I THINK WE'RE GOING TO BE GOOD FRIENDS.
> 
> So there is a mini-golf course in Upper Nyack, NY called Germonds Park Miniature Golf. I haven't been there, but hey, attention to detail.

 “You said no?” Karen was staring at her with open mouthed incredulity, her Armani purse sagging on her shoulder as she continued to fondle the prom dress hanging on the rack.

            Sarah, for her part, was scowling just a little, digging her toe into the carpet of the department store, and wondering why she ever agreed to go shopping for a prom dress with Karen instead of her friends... “I said no.”

            “Sarah, why!”

            “Because it's _Tommy Schultz_.”

            “What's wrong with Tommy Schultz?” The business woman released the garment, righting her purse and smoothing herself over. “Is he a nice young man?”

            “He's annoying...”

            “Sarah,” her step-mother was tutting, moving on to the next display of ruffled and sequined gowns. “If you keep turning down every boy who wants to go out with you, someday, they're going to stop asking.”

            It was everything high school senior Sarah could do to keep from rolling her eyes emphatically. This old chestnut. “Karen, Tommy Schultz is a doof, and I promised Penny we'd go stag to the prom.”

            “Yes, yes, I remember...” Karen was wisely silent after that, but with all the judging air mothers are so _uniquely_ capable of.

            The fact of the matter was, though, that Penny and her boyfriend Roger had broken up in a massive fight in the middle of the school commons not one month ago – and with Roger now going to the senior prom with that ditzy blonde _Amy_ , Penny couldn't face going without a date. What was a best friend to do? They would go together, as single women who didn't need any kind of stupid boy, certainly not Roger Lipowski, even if he _did_ say he was getting to drive his father's Mustang to the dance, being held at the just _too_ chic Crystal Room downtown....And anyway, Sarah was as good as her word, so that when weird, awkward Tommy had sidled up to her in the lunch room, pawing at the back of his head nervously, asking Sarah if she wanted to go to the prom with him, she said no for Penny – but she would have said no just as quickly if only for herself.

            Tommy Schultz had had a crush on Sarah since the eighth grade, _everybody_ knew that. He stared at her in U.S. History, was always trying to convince her to come hear his dumb garage band practice, and if she let him borrow her pencil, it always came back _sweaty_. It was possible Sarah didn't know what she wanted out of her romantic life – but she knew it wasn't Thomas Eugene Schultz.

            Karen, though, was only too happy to help her pick out her dress, whether she went with young Schultz or solo. “What about that white one, Sarah?”

            The young lady gulped: it was gorgeous, no doubt about it, all shimmering white and silver tulle, with the bodice beaded in gold and silver – but from the puffed sleeves to the at-least-two-feet wide skirt, it was entirely _too_ familiar. “I-I don't...”

            Luckily, Karen saved her from having to give a lengthy explanation; she shook her head. “You're right; too bridal. The pink?”

            Sarah was busy just catching her breath from that stupid dress to pay it much mind. “Um....”

            “Oh! Sarah!” Mrs. Williams quickly swiped one garment from its hanger and held it up before her step-daughter, indicating the nearest mirror. “It's perfect!” And Karen was probably right. It was a stunning piece in emerald green taffeta, with a skirt that swept the floor and off-set sleeves that each had a fabric rosette at the joining. Sarah stood next to the garment, and for just a moment, she felt the way she used to reading stories in the park – like a fairytale princess, or a-

            “My goodness, how did such a beautiful woman get all the way here without getting some assistance from the sales floor?” Sarah looked up; a man in a fine, dark suit was grinning down at the pair of them, with a badge on his lapel that read “ _Manager_.” This would be fine, really – if it weren't a blond man, his hair combed back against his head. With sharp teeth. With eyebrows that swept upward halfway across the ridge of his eyes, _with eyes of two different colors_.

            She was instantly scowling. “I don't need any he-”

            But he wasn't even talking to her, he had already moved toward Karen, an oily flirtatiousness in his every movement that took the matron by surprise. “I am so terribly sorry my staff were so neglectful – except it means now I get to make _your_ acquaintance.”

            “ _Oooh_...” Karen was giggling – _twittering_ , it was stupid – the way a school girl might, approached by such an elegant man, with his accent and his silk tie. “Well, we're just here shopping for dresses, for-”

            “Of course you are. We have this blue floral in stock – it'll almost be as lovely as your eyes.” Sarah was about ready to gag. What did he think he was doing?

            Karen was absolutely _red_ , but it was clear she was loving the attention. “I wasn't really looking for me...” she admitted, but the tall, lithe manager had already snagged the garment off the rack – and Karen looked pretty hooked already. “Oh my, that _is_ rather pretty...”

            “You should really try it on.” He was holding it against her, his fingers _just_ brushing her hip, and Sarah absolutely had to turn away and pretend to be fascinated by the mannequins. What a creep – and gawd, how easy was Karen? “It's going to compliment your figure so well.” Those fingers by her hip had already guided the woman toward the changing room door but a few feet away.

            “Well, it's just that – we were – well, how much is it?”

            “Oh, you shouldn't worry about that. You're worth every penny!”

            He was shutting the door with his most charming, predatory grin. It was all Karen could do to call, “ _I'll be out in a moment, Sarah_!” before it shut upon her.

            The girl, however, did not turn around, even as she felt the strange man still standing _right_ behind her. Way... _way_ too close behind her. The silence stretched on. She still did not turn around. “....well?”

            “Well!” She could _hear_ him grinning, the smug bastard. “Alone at last!”

            Sarah finally turned around, still holding the green dress in her hands. “ _What_ are you doing here, Jareth?”

            That incorrigible fey in his mortal disguise, Sarah watched him as he continued to beam, laying his palms over the top of one rack of clothing, his chin resting atop them. He pouted at her for a moment, almost as if he were trying to look _innocent_. On any other man, it might have worked; on any other girl but _Sarah_ , it might have been believed. “Working! A man has to have an occupation, after all.”

            “Uh huh, and do fairytale, jerk kings have to have an occupation as a-” she squinted at his badge “-regional sales manager in clothing stores in Upper Nyack?”

            “ _Have_ to? No, I suppose it's not a _necessity_. But it does pay for some of my worse, mortal habits.” He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket, tapping one out for her. “Do you smoke, precious?”

            She declined with a serious scowl. “So you can magic up a snake to throw at me, but a couple of dollars is just _way_ out of your league.”

            “You really are cruel, you know!” he continued to pout, replacing the cellophane package in his pocket. “Here I am doing this nice, normal, responsible thing that you would admire in so many _mortal_ men – and you merely berate me for it.”

            “Gee, maybe it's because I haven't gotten over that whole baby-kidnapping phase of yours?”

            “Sarah, if you don't learn to let things go, you're going to go through your whole life disappointed by everybody.”

            She rolled her eyes. “Thanks, I'll keep that in mind.”

“So,” he indicated the emerald green gown in her hands with a nod. “Dressing for a ball, are we?”

            “ _No_...” Sarah walked away from ladies' formal wear toward the shoe section, but Jareth merely followed her there, to her intense annoyance, but without any surprise. “It's called the Senior Prom, birdbrain.”

            “Ah, yes, the promenade. A relatively recent mortal tradition.” She was looking at a white pair of pumps, and he bent forward so that he could purr into her ear, “They don't have them in your size – but _I_ could-”

            “No, _thank you_ , Jareth.”

            “Hm.” He swept the dress from her hands before she could say word one, maneuvering her helplessly into a chair, kneeling before her like any normal shop clerk might. He brandished the tool for measuring shoe size, and Sarah just scowled and kicked at him when he reached for her ankle. “I could fashion glass slippers for the girl who runs away at midnight, if you prefer; _crystal_ ones, perhaps?”

            “This isn't Cinderella, and you aren't my prince.”

            “How very true.” He caught her ankle on the second kick, and Sarah squeaked slightly. His hands were bare, and warm, and he circled his fingers around the thin joint of bone slowly, staring up at her with unblinking eyes all the while. She gulped. “I am your King, precious Sarah. It's a far better position, I assure you. One of influence...of power...”

            “I'm not interested in either of those things.”

            “Of _course_ you are; you're a teenage girl. It's what you hunger for most.”

            “Just what do you know about what I _hunger_ for, _Jareth_?”

            “ _Sarah_.” His voice was a low, smooth purr, and the girl found herself rooted to the spot. Was it his voice alone that was the magic, the seduction that made her lips part and her breath come in shallow, unsteady puffs? Or was it the eyes, the scent of him so close, the _feel_ of those terribly thin fingers as they wormed their way beneath the cuff of her jeans, up, to stroke the calf- “I know _all_ of your longings, my dear, lovely girl. And I would give them all to you, if only you would let-”

            “ _Tada_!” Karen had burst from the dressing room, modeling the blue floral gown with a twist of her hips, so that the skirt flared. She was grinning. “What do you think, Sarah? Fun, isn't it?”

            The step-daughter was blinking rapidly, trying to get the dry feeling from her tongue and her senses back to herself. “It's, uh...” She half-expected Jareth to leap up and schmooze all over Karen again, but when she looked to where he had just been kneeling before her, he was nowhere to be seen. She nearly sighed; how very typical.

            “Oh, did someone help you with shoes? I have a pair that would go perfectly with that dress you can borrow, if you like.” Sarah nodded. “Fantastic! Shall we see how it looks on you and check out?”

            They bought the dresses, the green prom gown and the blue floral both. And Dad was _not_ too happy when he found out how much they cost altogether, but then, Karen repeated the mantra of the handsome shop assistant: weren't they worth every penny? Sarah excused herself from the argument by volunteering to give Toby his bath, and was relieved to scurry out of the kitchen.

* * *

 

            A cover band the school had hired for music was playing “Forever Young” when she walked in to the ballroom with Penny on a warm Saturday evening in May. Sarah's friend had had some misgivings about coming at all; they were late because Sarah had to redo her makeup when she started crying about Roger. She seemed to be all over that now, though, because Penny was gripping her wrist excitedly. “Oh my _gosh_ , Sarah, _a ballroom_! Can you even _handle_ right now?”

            “Uh huh...” She didn't want to say that she'd seen _better_ , but...

            “Oh, there's Claire!” Penny waved across the room, toward the refreshment table, and Sarah tried to maneuver back and forth to catch sight of their classmate, to no avail. “I'm going to see if she wants to sit with us. I'll grab punch if you get a table?”

            “Sure.” Sarah nodded, smiling a little at last. It was crowded in the Crystal Room, and hot. She was glad she hadn't brought the white cashmere shrug Karen kept insisting on. Her dad had seemed disappointed she didn't wear it, too, something about having her shoulders bare seemed to bother him. Sarah almost rolled her eyes in thought; parents. Still, Karen had taken about half a billion photos, and Toby hadn't been allowed to give her a hug or a kiss before she left as he was all sticky with juice. Dad stood at the door when Penny's mom came to pick her up, and he looked rather upset about the whole thing. Something about girls growing up too fast. But what did he think was going to happen at _prom_? Oh sure, movies made it sound all life changing and exciting, but frankly, Sarah had all her peers beat when it came to sudden life-changing experiences (especially ones that involved formal wear and dancing), and _teachers_ lined every wall as chaperones. Ms. Lipton, the English teacher, she was smiling and occasionally telling students how nice they looked. Mr. Tanner, the P.E. Coach, scowled at everyone, and was the first person to snap at any of the dancing couples. “Donald Summers, take a step back! You're dancing, you're not makin' a baby.” Ugh, this was going to be something else...

            Sarah was just about to swing her small bag onto an empty seat at a recently abandoned table when she heard her name, and looked up; Roger, in his tux, with a red carnation tucked into the buttonhole. Um, why was he staring at her? “Sarah, hi...”

            “Hi, Roger.” Her manner was slightly colder than ice.

            “Y-you look...”

            She ignored whatever he was failing to say, weaving to the right to peer over his shoulder. “Amy with you?” She could just catch a glimpse of blonde curls piled into a tower and yup, that had to be Amy in the midnight blue, all sequined and cut more immodestly than a swimsuit.

            “Amy?” He blinked slightly, as though he had just woken up, and finally nodded. “Oh, yeah, she's uh – somewhere – back there. H-how are you doing?”

            Sarah turned back to her conversation partner, one eyebrow ticked up. “Fine?”

            “That's great! That's good, you look... _really_ nice.”

            The young lady's brow furrowed slightly. “You know, you really hurt Penny.”

            “What? Oh, yeah, I mean – I was upset, too...” He smoothed one hand down the front of his tuxedo, the other going to the back of his head, and _gawd_ , what did Penny see in his handsome features and grey eyes and pouty lips? What a jerkwad. “Listen, uh...do you wanna, maybe, dance?”

            Dance? Oh. _Oh_.

            No more Miss Nice Girl. Sarah's hands fisted at her hips, and the young Lipowski seemed to watch the movement desperately. “Are you _hitting_ on me, Roger?”

            “What? No! No, nothing like – I mean, we used to hang out together, the three of us, you know! Old time's sake and....stuff?”

            “You ought to be dancing with _Penny_ , you cold-hearted _butthead_.” He seemed genuinely confused by that. “To say nothing of your _date_. You've got a lot of nerve, asking me to dance, after what you did to her-”

            “Hey, I was just trying to-”

            “What's all this fuss about?” A chaperone had inserted himself into their conversation – and not a teacher. Sarah swore under her breath; that stupid accent, the white sports coat dappled with the faint scent of leather...His hair was still combed back and darker, but slightly more wild than when he'd been impersonating that store manager. “You're not _bothering_ the young lady, are you, son?”

            Roger took the bait like any lesser mortal would, and began to stammer in the face of an authority figure. “A-ah, no, sir, I was just-”

            “Good. You'd better run along, then...” He gave him a slight nudge with the tips of his fingers on the boy's shoulder, and off Roger Lipowski went, back to his date and like a cowed dog.

            Sarah was glaring up at her white-coated knight. “I didn't need your help, Your Majesty!”

            “Of course you didn't.” He was resting his elbow in his palm so that his chin would then lean on the opposite hand. “The way you were looking, you would have eaten him alive before too long. So either I magnanimously took pity on that _manless_ creature, or I simply felt like intervening.”

            “Either way, buzz off, birdo.”

            “Ah yes, as I said, the Goblin Queen has her ire up.”

            “I'm _not_ the Goblin-”

            Sarah was actually rescued this time by Penny, who had hold of her elbow and was clutching it with nervous energy. “Sarah, were you talking to _Roger_? Oh, excuse me,” she nodded at Jareth, and Sarah smirked just a little to see his jaw drop open in frustration as she was dragged away to a quiet corner.  “You were, right? Did he say anything about me?”

            Oh, hell. Sarah bit her lip and then thought better of it, as Karen had only mentioned a million times to be careful of her lipstick. “Um, a little, yeah.”

            “What did he say?”

            What to do... “He, uh...he said how upset he was when you guys broke up.”

            “He _did_?” Penny's voice was a squeak as she said it, and one hand tightened on Sarah's elbow (she had to get Penny off with a quick “Ouch!”), the other fussing with her pink skirt nervously. “ _Ohmygosh_. Should I go talk to him later? Do you think wants to get back together? I look alright, don't I? Should I-”

            “ _Penny_.”

            Sarah wasn't able to give any sage advice; after all, she knew what _jerks_ mencould be, given that there was one glaring at her from across the room, his fingers tapping against his thigh. God, he was such a child. But she was unable to share this wisdom only because Lionel Coremann walked up in his powder blue tux and smiled casually at them. “Hey, Sarah, Penny.”

            “ _Hi_.”

            “Penny, I talked to the guitarist when he was on water break and he said they're playing 'Wake Me Up Before You Go Go' after this, you wanna dance with me?”

            “Oh.” Penny blinked, and released her skirt and even stopped prodding at Sarah. “Um...y-yeah, sure, okay!”

            “Cool.” Lionel smiled, and Sarah's friend was absolutely silent. “I'll come grab you when this one winds down.”

            “Y-yeah, no problem...” He walked away. Penny was staring.

            Sarah, for her part, was staring at her. “Um, hello?”

            “You don't care, right?” She faced her friend again and Sarah's brow furrowed. “I mean, I know we said we were going together because we didn't need men, but _dancing's_ fine, right?”

            “Oh! Yeah, yeah, it's totally fine! I don't mind at all.” She did mind, just a little. But whatever, one dance with Lionel Coremann wasn't going to hurt anybody, and he was okay. After all, at least he wasn't a buttmunch like Roger Lipowski...She might have even said so, but WHAM started playing, and suddenly Penny was squealing and skittering over to Lionel, who pulled her onto the floor, and Sarah was left by the wall, staring after them-

            And _that_ would have been alright, too, if _Tommy Schultz_ hadn't cornered her almost as soon as Penny had taken Lionel's hand. “Hi, Sarah.” Oh. God. _Why_ did he have to stand so close to her? Tommy was wearing a rose pink tux, and a matching rose for boutonniere, but the sleeves were clearly a little too long, and he absolutely _reeked_ of Brylcreem and Aqua Velva.

            Sarah wiggled away slightly. “ _Hi, Tommy_...”

            “You look _beautiful_...”

            “Could you take just even _one_ step back? I can feel you breathing on my neck...”

            “Listen, there was something I really wanted to tell you.”

            “Okay?” Sarah scooted to her right when her suitor failed to move. Tommy took another step closer and negated that effort. “What is it?”

            “Well, I know you were always too busy to come hear the band play, but I wrote this song, and I talked to Principle Halpern, and he said he was going to let me play it when-”

            “That's great, Tommy, really.” She took another step back. “I really have to go, uh...check my makeup, so-”

            “It looks great,” he assured her, which any girl could have told him was not any kind of guarantee whatsoever, but it didn't matter, because he was pressing onward. “D'you wanna dance?”

            It wasn't fair. Sarah, contrary to what _some_ fairy tale kings might say, didn't _actually_ like rejecting boys. Tommy wasn't necessarily a bad person, but he didn't give her any kind of space and he never listened when she said no, and gee, didn't that apply to _two_ boys that she knew? Alright, Jareth had an unfair advantage, being tall and blond and charming – and also magic – but it didn't change the basic principle of the thing. So why on earth did she have to be pressured into being with _anyone_ at a high school dance, be it Goblin King _or_ Tommy Schultz? Why couldn't she just go out with her friends and have fun for one night?

            She wanted to be able to say no without feeling like that made her a bad person. She didn't have that, so instead she lied. “Sorry.” She grimaced slightly. “My...ankle is bothering me.”

            “Oh.” He didn't seem dejected, but that wasn't necessarily a bonus, for he instead added, “Well, we could just sit and talk, if you like.”

            “No, I'd rather just...get some air.”

            “Sure, no problem.”

            “....By myself, Tommy.”

            “Oh.” _Finally_ he took the hint – and _at last_ stepped back. Sarah took her first deep breath in ages. “But, uh...you'll listen to that song, right?”

            She nodded minutely. “Sure will.”

            “Radical...Uh....See ya.” And he left. Sarah gave another deep sigh.

            And prom was stupid.

            She was going to comfort herself with brownies from the refreshment table and dish with Penny, but when she finally found her again, it was in a corner of the Crystal Room – totally tongue wrestling with Lionel. Wow. Sarah guessed she was over Roger, then.

            And prom was _really_ stupid.

            Sarah would have just taken time to feel bad for herself – she was even looking for Jareth, though she couldn't see him – but there was a sudden _hiss_ over the speaker system and the various teenagers in couples and groups stopped to look up at the stage, where the otherwise competent band looked a bit miffed. Dear God: Tommy Schultz was adjusting the microphone. He wasn't just going to play a song he wrote.

            He was going to _play_ a song he wrote. And it was about to get worse.

            “Um, hey,” he stammered, and the band lead didn't look impressed as he perused the sheet music he'd been handed. “So, uh, I wrote this song...for someone really special...” _Oh no_. “And I hope you guys get to feel this way about someone someday – and that they love you back. And, uh....hope she gets it.” And he winked. Sarah was rooted to her spot on the floor in sheer terror.

            The band was exchanging confused looks, but before a moment, the bass and the drum started up a rather pathetic thrumming beat, and the keyboard began an insipid attempt at melody. And Tommy was singing.

“ _I look at you_

_Across the quad_

_I stop and just think_

_'Oh my God.'_

_Cause you're beautiful._

_Yeah, yeah, yeah-_

_You're beautiful._ ”

A few people were murmuring around her, and Sarah _prayed_ that for once she was wrong – also, that no one had any proof she'd ever come to the prom, and that Penny was about to say she was feeling sick and would need to go home. Or Alan Rickman was about to take them all hostage or _something_. She saw Jareth along one wall, Ms. Lipton leaning flirtatiously close to him and talking his ear off, and he seemed rather bored, but now that the music was playing he looked absolutely _irate_. This was too embarrassing to even have that be a comfort.

“ _Oh, Sarah_ -”

he was wailing into the microphone, and this was it, she really was going to die. Heads were turning and looking _right at her_. It was like a spotlight had just come on. The crowd was parting. This was hell. She could hear the start of laughter at the fringes of the crowd of classmates.

_“If only you would care-a_

_You make me walk on air-a_

_Oh Sarah_

_Yeah, girl._

_Just be my girl._

_Yeah, girl_!”

            There was a sudden bang, then another hiss, the screeching sound of feedback so that everyone ducked their heads and covered their ears. Sarah could see the band mates grumbling between one another, but she hadn't a clue what they were saying. What was clear, however, was that the cord for Tommy's microphone had been ripped from the wall, and _Jareth_ had mounted the steps up the stage two at a time, clapping and smiling his sharpest, most unreal grin. “Well!” The microphone must have been plugged back in, because she could hear him clearly now – and it felt like a ripple went over the group of students, for suddenly everything felt calmer. When Sarah looked around at them, they all wore docile grins. Even Tommy didn't look _that_ upset to have his ballad interrupted, Jareth's arm around his shoulders in a moment of brotherhood. “What a great interlude from such a....unique talent.” Why was no one saying anything? Whatever the Goblin King had just done, everyone seemed to accept that he was the MC now, as if he had been the entire dance. Even the band leader was resuming his place with an easy smile. “But I think we're all ready for the highlight of the evening – the slow dance.” With a gentle shove from Jareth, Tommy went stumbling back down the stairs, and the second interloper was giving instructions to the band, who nodded with easy obedience. New music – much _better_ music – was starting up, and suddenly everyone was pairing off. Jareth was crooning into the microphone. “ _There's such a sad love, deep in your eyes_...”

            This was it. It was the worst night of her life. Sarah wanted to run out of the Crystal Room screaming and in tears. Where the _hell_ did Tommy get off embarrassing her publicly like that! Alright, so he had a crush on her, but she'd made plain on _numerous_ occasions that she was _not_ interested, so how was it then okay to keep _hounding_ her like this! She was going to be the laughing stock of the entire graduating class, did he even think of that?

            ...And why did _everyone_ find someone they wanted to dance with but her!

            Tommy had the brass balls to approach her, still with that drunk, magic-influenced look to his eyes. “Sarah,” he half-slurred, and she almost would have believed the Goblin King had slipped something into the punch. “Did you hear, um...” He swayed on his feet, eyes bleary, and Sarah outright _scowled_ at him. “Did you hear, did you like the song?”

            “Frankly, Tommy,” and here she crossed her arms over her chest, completely on the defensive. “It really ticked me off.”

            “It's funny,” he kept on talking like she hadn't said anything at all, still swaying on his feet. “But, like...I remember being up there, but I don't remember anything else. I guess that's nerves, huh?”

            Sarah stared at him. Slowly, her arms dropped. “What did you say?”

            “I said, I guess that's nerves, h-”

            “Excuse me.” She turned and started making her way toward the front door, crushed against couples that spun happily in time to the music crooning over the speakers. They did look drunk, yes, but half looked drunk in _love_. She knocked into one guy she recognized from her algebra class and blurted, “Did you hear Tommy Schultz’s song?”

            “What?” He shrugged her off while his girlfriend glared at her. “Um...yeah, I guess so? Come on, Williams, don't bug me.” That was it. They kept right on dancing. Sarah didn't know whether to be grateful or horrified.

            So she left.

            This _sucked_. The night every teenager dreamed about, the Senior Prom, and her best friend had abandoned her, guys she hated were checking her out, her freaking _nemesis_ stalked her there-

            “Sarah.” She froze. It was him, that was Jareth's voice. She didn't turn around, but she did work harder to stop the tears that were threatening to spill over. “Sarah. Are you alright.”

            “W-what do you care!” She sniffled and rubbed the back of her hand against her eyes, cursed when her hand came away black with mascara. “Wouldn't you be all too happy to do the same thing, _serenade_ me in public, whatever I had to say about it?”

            “No.” Before she knew what was happening, he was holding a white silk handkerchief out to her. Sarah glanced at him beside her, but hesitated. “No tricks tonight, my dear. Just a little kindness.”

            “Well....thanks.” She took it and blew her nose messily into it after dabbing her eyes, but Jareth didn't seem to mind much. “What were you even _doing_ here, anyway?”

            “Looking at you, of course.”

            She rolled her eyes. “Oh, of course...”

            “Well, what do you expect? If there's one thing you ought to understand after this evening, you're a lovely young woman.”

            “That _doesn't_ make me feel better!” she shouted, trying to hand him back the handkerchief, but he declined; she slid it into her clutch instead and figured she'd try to wash it later. “I'm not just a piece of meat to be grabbed at, you know!”

            “Indeed you are not, we are precisely in agreement there.”

            She could hear music through the doors; that song, still that song that Jareth had made for her, in that crystal dream those two years ago now... “How are they still playing without you?”

            He smiled at her, and it was only half a smirk. “Oh, I gave them the music, I'm just not vocalizing.”

            “Ah...”

            “You still haven't had your dance.” Before she knew what he was doing, his hand was out to her. “May I have the honor?”

            Sarah stared at him a moment – and then sighed, dropping her small purse to the ground. “Sure, why not...You were my first real dance anyway.”

            “Thank you.” Without further encouragement, Jareth's hand fit to the small of her back, and Sarah squeaked slightly. His fingers folded over hers and soon they were spinning around and around, just like before...It made her dizzy and she tilted her head close to his warm, lean torso. “I would like very much to be the last as well.”

            She sighed, her cheek brushing the firm plane of his chest. “Get in line, Goblin King...”

            “I was not trying to embarrass you, you know,” he murmured, his own cheek touching the crown of her hair. “Merely...look after something I find precious.”

            “You don't have to talk...We're dancing.”

            “Dancing affords a private moment to speak,” he replied, turning her around more quickly, so that her fingers clung to him a little tighter. His grin was just a tad smug, but Sarah could give only the most perfunctory of glares. “That was one of its benefits in courtship in ages past, you know.”

            “Fascinating,” was her tired, disinterested murmur.

            For his part, Jareth kept right on speaking. “It seems more than just embarrassment is bothering you.”

            “Well, _yeah_. I have had three guys pawing at me in one night.”

            “ _Pawing_?” He pulled her closer and Sarah squeaked. “This is not pawing. This is romance. You don't want to see me _pawing_ , little girl.”

            “Ugh, you know what I mean.”

            “I do not. That is bothering you, yes, but it's not what's making you so sad.”

            Sarah sighed heavily. How was he always so...right about everything? “I mean, I can't just go out and have fun with my friends, there's one...I was the only one not happy about being asked to dance...”

            “Mhm...”

            “And...you know, if you tell a guy no, people say you're a jerk. Like Karen, she's always saying if I keep turning guys down, they'll stop asking.”

            “She is wrong to do so.” Jareth was taking her off the main path, they were dancing on the lawn of the Crystal Room, and Sarah gasped a little, feet unsteady; she clung to him, and Jareth smiled. “Sarah, you, of all young women, ought to know your value is not in being sought out by men. Only you know what makes you happy – this, for instance-”

            “Don't ruin this, Jareth.”

            “-If you don't feel that way about someone, guilt won't change that.”

            She almost rolled her eyes. “I've told you no a thousand times, where is this coming from.”

            “Well...” She could see the glint in his eyes, the look of triumph, and he leaned very close to her. Sarah's throat went dry. “You say no, it's true, but everything else about you _screams_ yes.”

            “E-Excuse me?”

            “Think, Sarah: had _I_ gotten up on that stage tonight and tried to _woo_ you...Would you have run from the room like this?”

            Why was she blushing this hard? “O-of course I would.”

            But Jareth was shaking his head. “You would not. You disliked it because you disliked the boy – and the song was wretched, let's be plain. But things we do not tolerate in those we dislike we allow for in those we _do_.”

            Sarah's head was down in an effort to hide her blushing. When had it gotten so _hot_ out? “What's all this supposed to mean?”

            “It _means_ ,” he purred, and his fingers flexed along her back, and Sarah found it hard to breathe, “that I disliked the way that _literature instructor_ tried to touch me this evening, but I would _die_ were it to be you.” Oh God. She was blushing harder. “It _means_ that morality does have an aesthetic standard – don't argue with me, Sarah, it's simply true.” Another flourish and the dance stopped. He held her not even at arm’s length, the hand that held her fingers moving slowly down, to brush at her cheek. Sarah stood frozen to the spot. “It isn't evil. It's as nature designed. There's no sense in fighting it. And it _means_ that you find me _attractive_.”

            “I...I-” Sarah couldn't formulate half an argument. She stared at the Goblin King and gaped like a fish.

            “And I you, precious thing...” He was leaning forward, and Sarah did not lean back. “Thank you, for allowing me to share this rite of passage with you.”

            “ _Jareth_ -” She felt out of breath; his lips had just brushed hers, she could _feel_ it – her eyes were closing, and holy God, that meant he was right, that the line between creepy and alluring really _was_ a personal one, and what the hell was she supposed to take away from that? Because everything the Goblin King did was _wrong_ , but then _why_ did she find it so hard to resist him? And mother of mercy, was he about to _kiss_ her-

            “Sarah.” She heard the doors to the Crystal Room clank as they were shoved at, and her eyes shot wide open. She quickly smoothed her hands down her skirt and hair and attempted to look _entirely_ innocent. It was just Penny and Lionel, walking out arm and arm, nothing to be embarrassed about. Right?

            _Right_?

            “I don't want to be a party pooper,” Penny was saying, holding her shoes in one hand. “But it's getting kind of late – but if we left now, the Custard King would still be open. Lionel was saying we could get ice cream. Sound good?”

            “Y-yeah!” Strange, it was a _relief_ to think about going. All this effort for one evening, and she was in a hurry to get away...Well, who was she kidding? She'd already had her fairy tale night with her magical suitor. For her classmates, this may be the closest they ever came. They didn't understand what magic was made of – but her, she did. “That sounds really cool.”

            “U-um...” Penny blushed and limped away from her newly acquired date, whispering in her best friend's ear. “You can say no, if it'd be awkward to bring him along...”

            Sarah smiled – truly smiled this time and whispered back. “No, he seems rad. I wanna go.” The way Penny smiled at her made the _entire_ night worthwhile.

            “Hey,” Lionel interjected, looking around for a moment. “Weren't you out here with someone?”

            Sarah blinked, and pretended she was a true actress. “No?”

            “I could have sworn-”

            “We'd better get going, if we're getting to Custard King before it closes.”

            Lionel paused – but grinned. “Yeah, sure. I have the Tercel tonight, there's plenty of room and gas, let's go.” A Tercel. Not a 'stang, but somehow, far more appealing.

            Sarah nodded, coming up to take Penny's arm, so that the girl was sandwiched between them – and laughed about it. “I'm going to call you 'Li,' okay?”

            “'Li?'” he repeated, still smiling at the both of them. “That's an awesome nickname, sure.” Penny was looking at Sarah like she'd just given her the world, just for being kind to the boy she liked. Yeah, she got that; she liked him way better than Roger Lipowski already. “We should all hang out next weekend. My brother works at the putt-putt-golf off Germonds Rd, you guys wanna go?” They continued to make plans as they approached the lot, but Sarah was the last to get into the car, instead looking around to see if there was any white-suited chaperone or MC. She heard the hoot of an owl and relaxed just a touch. It wasn't the worst prom in the world, after all.


End file.
